


hit the ball and touch 'em all

by elegantstupidity



Series: put me in coach [2]
Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Birthday, Gen, Girls' Night Out, One Shot Collection, Secret Relationship, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 08:24:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10433529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantstupidity/pseuds/elegantstupidity
Summary: a collection of one shots (plus a couple follow ups) for PitchStreetTeam's renewal efforts





	1. need to dress accordingly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt: Author's Choice
> 
> (Of course I went Bawson + some Evelyn)

“Ginny, I swear to God, if you don’t get your cute butt out here in the next five seconds—”

“Stop using your mom voice on me, Ev,” Ginny called from the bathroom. “It’s weird.”

“Stop making me mother you!” she shot back. “This is supposed to be girls’ night, Ginny! For a few hours, I forget that I’ve got a husband and two seven-year-olds at home, I put on a pretty dress, I go to a bar, and someone buys me overpriced drinks. But I can only do that if you get your ass in gear.”

Finally stepping out of the bathroom, Ginny rolled her eyes. She’d waited until Evelyn could see, though it seemed she should have waited a moment longer. Her friend was sprawled on the couch, an arm flung theatrically across her face.

“You could definitely do all of that without me.”

“No, I couldn’t. If you’re not with me, I won’t have a convenient excuse to kick all the men who will undoubtedly flirt with me to the curb.”

Ginny laughed. “Your husband and kids aren’t reason enough?”

Evelyn moved her arm to glare, but shot upright instead. “Holy hell, Ginny,” she breathed. “Where did you get that?”

“This?” Ginny asked, self-consciously smoothing out the skirt of her dress. Not that there were any wrinkles in the loose, swinging fabric. The silk rubbed enticingly against Ginny’s legs and she remembered exactly why she’d bought it in the first place. She hadn’t really paid much attention to her reflection in the fitting room once she felt the sleek slide of fabric against her skin. “You told me to wear something that I like.”

“I know!” Evelyn grinned and eyed Ginny’s outfit appreciatively. “If I’d known that this is what you like, I would’ve stopped shopping for you years ago.”

“Like you would’ve given up control of my closet,” she teased, feeling better about the pale gold dress she’d just tied shut around her waist a few minutes ago. It hung from her shoulders on thin straps, making Ginny feel oddly exposed, though that could have more to do with the absence of the sling she’d been wearing since September. Having the use of two arms again was taking some getting used to, but Ginny was grateful.

Grateful enough to agree to girls night out without thinking it through.

It was Evelyn’s turn to roll her eyes, pushing to her feet. “I only needed to control your closet because I wasn’t aware you knew fabrics other than lycra and cotton existed.”

“This isn’t lycra?”

Evelyn swatted at Ginny with her clutch, pointing at the door.

“Out!” she ordered, only leaving her friend enough time to slip on a jacket and grab her purse.

* * *

They were onto their third venue of the night, Evelyn refusing to stay anywhere for more than two drinks. Ginny didn’t mind. That was usually about the time that anyone who’d caught wind of her whereabouts—thanks a lot, Twitter—showed up and started taking photos from a distance. Then, the distance would close and anything even resembling privacy was out the window.

She didn’t mind outrunning Ginnsanity, it’s just— Her feet were getting tired.

“Ev, can we please call it quits after this one?”

“Don’t wimp out on me, Ginny. This place is supposed to be amazing!”

“You’ve said that about the last two places!” she laughed, looking out the window as the car rolled to a stop.

“And they were! C’mon, don’t tell me that you wouldn’t have stayed at the first one for the bartender alone.”

Ginny smiled, but didn’t admit to Evelyn that while the bartender had been cute in a clean cut kind of way, her tastes were running distinctly more lumberjack these days.

“Besides, you need to get out there! You can’t keep putting off the rebound.”

“I don’t know if a handful of dates is something I need to rebound from.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes and opened the car door as Ginny checked in with the driver and arranged their pick up. When she joined her friend on the curb, she was treated to an imploring look.

“All right. Maybe you don’t need a rebound, but I need this night.” Evelyn grabbed Ginny’s hands and squeezed to punctuate her point. “God knows I love my boys—all of them—but I need a night where I’m not a cook or a chauffeur or a housekeeper or even a mom or a wife. Can you do this for me?”

Ginny sighed and squeezed back. “Anything for you, Ev.”

As expected, her friend squealed and danced a little in place. Evelyn’s excitement was infectious, and soon, Ginny joined in.

Before she knew it, they were skipping the (very long) line and strolling up to the (frankly enormous) bouncer. He eyed them a bit suspiciously for a minute before recognition sparked in his eyes.

Still, he examined both her and Evelyn’s IDs very carefully, before stamping their hands and waving them through. Just as they were about to step inside, though, he called them back. He blushed and said, “I don’t normally do this, but would you mind taking a picture? My kid is gonna lose her mind.”

That was easy enough to agree to, so Ginny smiled and nodded. Evelyn, far too used to this, took the man’s phone and snapped a few photos.

After nodding his satisfaction, the bouncer informed them, “Oh! You’ll find the rest of your group in the VIP lounge,” before turning to the next group of clubgoers.

Rest of their group?

Ginny and Evelyn traded confused looks, neither having any idea what the man was talking about.

* * *

“Nuh uh. No way!” protested Evelyn. “This is girls night. That means no boys and definitely no husbands.”

Apparently, the group the bouncer’d meant was the San Diego contingent of the Padres—the guys who didn’t leave town when the season ended. Ginny couldn’t blame the man for assuming that she’d shown up for a night out with her teammates, even with Evelyn at her side.

Or the server who’d caught sight of her and ushered her straight to the VIP area without question.

Upon brushing back the gauzy curtain that separated the Very Important from the rabble, Ginny was a little surprised that she hadn’t put it together herself. She hadn’t asked what Blip was up to tonight. If Ev was taking a girls night, it only made sense that Blip would hang with the boys.

A wave of startled recognition greeted both women.

From her place at the threshold, Ginny could see a good chunk of her teammates. Salvi and Sonny, Livan, Butch, and Hinkley, rounded out by Blip and Mike. Though Ginny had to try very hard not to stare in shock at that last Padre. She hadn’t realized he was even in town.

Trying to play it cool, she traded fist bumps and high fives with the guys, ignoring their jibes and trading insults. Meanwhile, Evelyn still gaped at the familiar faces. When her husband, leaving the conversation he’d been having with Mike in corner, started forward, that was when Evelyn made her stand.

“Aw, come on Evy,” coaxed Blip, sidling up to his wife with a smitten grin. He leaned down to murmur in her ear and Ginny watched as her friend slowly melted into her husband’s embrace.

Knowing when she wasn’t needed, Ginny went in search of a drink.

Mike fell into step beside her.

“Long time no see, captain,” Ginny said, flicking a look at him through her mascara-coated lashes.

He tilted his head in acknowledgement. He had been mysteriously MIA for the past few weeks. About the same time that Ginny split up from Noah, actually. “Had some things to do in LA,” he replied, using his bulk to clear a path to the bar.

Right. LA. Where Rachel lived.

Ginny nodded, leaning both elbows against the bar to avoid looking at him.

“You, uh—” She could feel his body heat pressing in next to her as he swallowed and started again, “You clean up nice.”

Almost without her permission, Ginny’s head turned to look at him. Her chin tucked to her bare shoulder and peering up at Mike, whose gaze was trained on her hands, Ginny got the chance to study the man who took up too many of her thoughts as it was.

He looked unfairly good in a gray button up and jeans. His biceps bulged against the sleeve and Ginny was filled with the memory of those arms wrapped around her. Her heart started to pound.

This wasn’t really the time or place for that, so she replied, “I’d say the same, but it’s hard to tell under that thing you’ve let take over your face.”

Automatically, Mike’s hand came up to rub his beard. He glanced at her finally, eyes twinkling. “When are you gonna admit that you love the beard?”

“In your dreams, old man.”

Rather than roll his eyes and push the matter, Mike dropped his gaze back to the bar top, nodding slowly. The dark fan of his eyelashes against his cheek had Ginny’s breath catching in her chest. One of his hands fell to his side, just barely brushing against the skirt of her dress. Almost unconsciously, he fingered the fabric, sending shivers skating up her spine.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “that seems about right.”

Now, Ginny couldn’t breathe for an entirely different reason. She stared and stared, trying to come up with a single reasonable thing to say when all she wanted to do was slide up to him and finally close the gap that’d opened between them that last night of August.

She finally managed a hoarse, “Mike—”

“C’mon man,” Blip interrupted. “Ev says if we’re going to be in the same club, we have to make ourselves scarce. Girls night has some strict rules.”

His voice was light, but Ginny knew what Blip looked like when he’d caught the scent of something. And maybe he wasn’t as outwardly tenacious as his wife, but she knew well enough that he wasn’t going to let this go. He’d bring it up when she least expected it, along with things she didn’t even realize he knew.

Mike, looking as wary as she felt, recovered first. “You married guys are all so whipped.”

Ginny’s head whipped up to him. Was that the business he’d taken care of in LA? Signing divorce papers?

He met her gaze, steady and intent, willing her to understand.

Ginny wasn’t sure that she did. Or if she did, but was too scared to admit it.

Finally, Mike sighed and shifted, ready to follow after Blip.

Before he could go, though, she grabbed his wrist, her thumb sliding under his cuff and against his warm skin. Ginny looked up at him, wide-eyed, unsure of what she was going to say until it came out of her mouth.

“Pick this up later?”

Mike’s eyes narrowed and she could tell he was tracking the words back to when he first said them to her. Back when she was still proving herself to the team. To him, even. Ginny braced herself for the echoed response.

It never came.

Instead, her captain and catcher, her friend and the man who featured all too often in her dreams, leaned in and murmured his answer in her ear. He pulled away, smirking a little, and left Ginny in her stupor.

Which was how Evelyn found her. It could have been minutes or hours or days for all Ginny was aware of her surroundings.

“Now that that’s settled,” her friend declared, scooting into the space Mike had just occupied and flagging down a bartender, “let’s get back to girl’s night!” She promptly ordered a round of shots.

When the drinks arrived, Ginny tossed hers back immediately. Normally, she’d want to keep her wits about her whenever Evelyn and a secret came into too close a proximity, but she really needed something to drive Mike’s low, “Count on it, Ginny,” as far from her thoughts as possible.

What better way than tequila shots?

At Evelyn’s incredulous look, Ginny took one last suck of her lime wedge and offered her friend a sheepish smile.

“To girls night?”

The calculating, excited expression that took over Evelyn’s face told Ginny she would’ve been better off saying nothing at all.

She was going to need so much more tequila to get through this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn and Ginny's relationship means so much to me. But I have a one track mind, so of course this devolved into bawson nonsense...
> 
> If you can, please check out [Pitch Street Team's tumblr](http://www.pitchstreetteam.tumblr.com) for more info on the #keepherinthegame campaign!


	2. how old would you be if you couldn't remember how old you are?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Flashback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the people who were hoping for a continuation on the previous chapter, I will probably get to that as I am grossly susceptible to peer pressure, but this isn't it. 
> 
> Instead, keep reading for some Ginny & Al time!

Ginny’d always been grateful to have a December birthday. As a kid, it meant that Christmas was on its way along with winter break and no homework for two whole weeks. 

It also meant that she got a break from her training schedule. Much as she loved the game, even Ginny didn’t want to spend every waking hour thinking about it. Holidays and birthdays were some of the few breaks her pop allowed her from training.  **  
**

Which was why it felt so strange to be in the Petco Clubhouse, working up a sweat the day she turned 24. 

This wasn’t the first time Ginny hadn’t gone home for her birthday and the holidays, but it was the first time she didn’t have games as an excuse. She did have her bum elbow, though, and the battery of people that tended to it. It wasn’t even a lie when she told her mom it would be too much of a hassle to arrange all the physical therapy appointments and training sessions and doctor’s visits around a trip home.

She’d thought it would be a weight off of her mind, not having to worry about being stuck in North Carolina with her mom and Will or, God forbid, Kevin. No dealing with her mother’s hovering or her brother’s cold shoulder. No rebuffing her mom’s boyfriend—ugh, the word made her cringe every time—either.

Just another quiet day in San Diego, celebrating her birthday the way _she_  wanted to. It would feel nice. Relaxing, even.

Mostly, though, Ginny felt lonely. 

She’d woken up alone in her hotel room and ordered breakfast for one to eat by herself at the bar in her empty kitchenette. Not even the tv tuned to something nostalgic made her feel less lonely.

Watching the little, blue alien wreak havoc on the screen had dug up memories Ginny usually did her best not to think about. Which was why she’d fled into the familiar confines of Petco’s cardio suite. 

But even the burn in her lungs and the aching arches of her feet hadn’t been able to chase the hazy recollections from her brain. 

No, Ginny couldn’t help but remember sitting in the dark theater, watching it for the first time. The memory overlapped with reality, and even though her arms pumped in time to her feet pounding the treadmill, she would swear she was sitting all cozy in the Tarboro Discount Theater, her mom on one side of her, Will on the other, and her Pop sitting at the end, arms crossed over his chest. She could practically hear Will’s bursts of laughter even though he’d complained he was too old for such a baby movie all the way in. 

That year was no different from all the other times her Pop grudgingly agreed to take the family to the movies rather than the batting cages for her birthday. And even though he’d frown and grumble and try to get her to change her mind, he’d always buy a bucket of popcorn just for her. 

And every year, as he’d hand it over, his usually stoic face would crease in a smile. There was something so special about that smile. Even better than the break from practice or the whole tub of buttery popcorn, it was what Ginny looked forward to every year. 

Still smiling, he’d kiss her temple and whisper, “Happy birthday, little girl. One year closer.”

And she’d echo, “One year closer.”

Every year. Until she turned eighteen and there was no one there to whisper to her.

Ginny shook herself and bumped up the speed on her treadmill.

She was on mile eight of what was supposed to be a five mile jog, but as long as inconvenient memories were going to keep popping up, Ginny was going to keep trying to distract herself.

After all, what better way to deal with unwanted feelings and memories than running away from them?

“Baker, what’re you doing here?”

“What’s it look like, Skip?” she replied, throwing her manager a grin without breaking stride. 

Al was having none of it. “No, no! What’re you doing here today?”

“Where else am I supposed to be?”

“It’s your birthday, kid! You should be at home with your family or out having fun with the other young people.”

“Oh,” she replied, finally stepping onto the sides of the treadmill and watching the belt whir between her feet. “I, um. I didn’t realize you knew it was my birthday.”

Al rolled his eyes. “I know everything about everyone. It’s how I’ve kept this job so long.” Ginny laughed, just as he wanted her to. “In fact, there should be a gift waiting for you when you get back to the hotel.”

“Skip,” she protested, finally powering down the treadmill, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. I do it for all my guys. And girls, now,” he allowed, nodding to her as she stepped to the ground.

That got Ginny to grin. A real one, this time. “Well, thank you in advance,” she said, following him out of the cardio suite.

“Anytime, Baker,” Al smiled, fond. “Now, I don’t wanna hear about you overdoing it with your workouts, you hear me? I want your arm back in my rotation come next season.”

“Got it, Skip.” Ginny’s smile blew wide, bright enough to make Al duck his head bashfully and shoo her out of the clubhouse.

It didn’t matter that Al was basically kicking her out, Ginny knew he just did it because he worried. And while it was nice that he’d sent something over to her hotel room, Al’d just given her the one thing she’d wanted since she collapsed on the field in September.

Sure, Blip and Mike and some of the other guys assured her that she’d bounce back and that she shouldn’t worry about the 20+ other pitchers who’d show up at Spring Training. But they were her friends, it was their duty to cheer her up. 

But to hear Al say that he wanted her back? That was an unexpected sandbar where she could rest after months of just struggling to keep her head above water. 

It was a gift. 

And Ginny couldn’t imagine getting a better one this year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need approximately 100 more hours of Al and Ginny bonding.
> 
> Huge thanks to everyone who has already participated in [Pitch Street Team's](http://www.pitchstreetteam.tumblr.com) March campaign. If you haven't sent your baseballs to Fox yet, there's still time! Also, take a look at the plans for April and May!


	3. hello, it's called personal space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Bawson

Ginny shrugged for what felt like fourth time in as many minutes.

Not because she was expressing her ambivalence, but because Mike wouldn’t remove his fucking elbow from her shoulder.

He’d been doing it a lot lately and Ginny was getting sick of it. Mostly because pictures of her pouting with her arms crossed over her chest as Mike leaned casually on her shoulder were circulating on the internet. Ginny looked like a child on the verge of a tantrum while her captain looked like her vaguely neglectful parent.

Not really the image of her she wanted out in the world.

(Or Mike’s brain, but that was a separate matter.)

“What’s on your mind, Baker?” Mike asked around the wad of gum he’d been working since the bottom of the third.

“Just trying to figure out how guilty I’ll feel if I push you away and you fall and break a hip.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him grin, the eye black stretching as the apples of his cheeks rounded in amusement.

“Now, why would you go and do a thing like that?” he wondered, gazing off into the distance. Like he was posing for his close up. On a hunch, Ginny peeked around his bulk and, yep. Rob had his camera trained on them. A glance at the jumbotron revealed shots of the crowd, so at least no one in the stadium could see her captain using her as a leaning post.

Who knew what was being broadcast on FS1, though.

It would be so easy to get a good shot in at his ribs. The man was weirdly ticklish, and it would serve him right for that weakness to come out on national TV.

Ginny just sighed and tried again. “You know the fence is right there, right?”

“Yep,” he replied, popping his gum along with the “P.”

She huffed, but did her best not to pout. The last thing she needed was to become a meme again.

“You’re lucky I’m not pitching today,” she muttered, watching Dom take his place in the batter’s box.

“And why is that?” Ginny could hear the barely restrained laughter in his voice. Well, fine. She’d see who was laughing in a second.

Smug, she replied, “Because Al would definitely yell at you if he thought you were tiring me out.”

Rather than looking to their manager or finally taking the hint and removing his elbow from her person, Mike studied her sidelong for a moment. A long moment. Finally, his lips quirked slyly and he leaned in to murmur in her ear.

“If I wanted to tire you out, Baker, I wouldn’t be doing it where anyone could watch.”

And then he was gone, jamming his head into his batting helmet and going out to take his practice swings.

Ginny wasn’t sure how to properly seem like every rational thought hadn’t just fled her brain at the suggestion in Mike’s voice. How to seem like her mind was still on the game unfolding before her.

She settled for not letting her mouth gape open and studiously avoiding Mike’s thick frame near the on deck circle. Instead, she watched Blip leg out a double and Cristiello get held up at third.

Then, because there was no good reason not to, Ginny stared as Mike took up his stance in the batter’s box. He went through his plate routine, but before he set his bat on his shoulder, Mike looked up, locked eyes with Ginny, and pointed his bat straight at her.

Ginny’s mouth went dry again. She checked the urge to glance around and see if anyone else had noticed in favor of watching his at bat. God, Mike was cocky, a smirk firmly planted on his face as he dug in.

He watched the first two go by, one high and the other a little inside but still a strike. It was the third pitch, which Ginny could see even as it left the pitcher’s hand would hang too long over the plate. Her eyes flashed to Mike’s face, caught the spark of eagerness there, and watched as his powerful shoulders bunched. Watched him stride forward confidently, bring the bat down and around to smash against the hanging slider and send it out of the park to end the game.

With a triumphant grin, Mike trotted around the bases, clapping Dom and Blip on the back when he finally crossed home. The rest of the team spilled out of the dugout to congratulate the hometown hero, but Ginny remained rooted in place.

She was still thinking about that look he’d given her. It didn’t help that those words were still spinning through her head.

What was he thinking?

Annoyance was starting to push out the dazed, starry feeling that had taken over Ginny since Mike leaned in decided he just wanted to blow their cover today.

Because while she and Mike had decided that it wasn’t worth the effort to deny their feelings for each other any more, they’d also decided it would be way too much of a hassle to make their relationship public.

Without checking to see if any of the cameras were covering her or if anyone was even paying attention, Ginny turned away from the field and marched straight into the clubhouse.

She was showered and changed by the time the knock she’d been expecting on her dressing room door came.

Without waiting, the door opened and Mike stepped in, still wearing his uniform, grinning. Like he didn’t know exactly how annoyed she was with him. Or was just very good at pretending she wasn’t.

“You see me win the game for you?” he asked, eagerly crowding into her space and attaching his lips to her pulse point.

“Oh, for me, huh?” she managed in spite of Mike’s clever mouth doing its best to distract her

“Who else? Gotta keep my girl in awe of my talent.”

“Well, maybe it would be easier if you didn’t use your girl as an armrest all day. Maybe she’d be more impressed.”

“C’mon, Gin,” he cajoled with a pout, having finally lifted his mouth from her neck to look her in the eye. “There’re only so many ways I can touch you in public without raising eyebrows.”

“It’s not like you _have_ to touch me in public,” she grumped. Maybe he would’ve taken her more seriously if her fingers weren’t curled into the sides of his uniform, holding him firmly against her.

“Can’t help myself,” he replied, dipping back down to nuzzle against her sensitive skin. “Now that I know what it’s like, how am I supposed to stop?”

Without any input from her, Ginny’s fingers tightened in the fabric of Mike’s jersey and she sighed, her head tipping to offer him better access. They really shouldn’t be doing this here, but he’d spent the last three hours riling her up, standing close enough she could practically taste the sweat dripping down his throat. His arm so close to where it had been when she woke this morning wrapped up in him.

Honestly, she understood the urge—Did he really think that she wanted to be further from him than necessary?— but it wasn’t as if they didn’t have a good reason for keeping this secret.

“You stop because you’re a grown man and have at least a little self-control,” Ginny finally answered. “It’s like you want us to get caught.”

Mike rolled his eyes, but the tips of his ears turned red and he wouldn’t quite make eye contact with her. She rocked back to get a better look at him, but he studiously avoided her gaze.

“Lawson,” Ginny growled, a warning.

“No. No! I would never—” At Ginny’s arched brow, he changed tacks. “Okay, I wouldn't really risk outing us, it’s just you smelled so good and—”

“That’s your defense?” she guffawed. “I smelled good?”

Mike looked pained. “Do you know how much of my life I’ve gone through sharing a dugout with smelly, dirty, sweaty dudes, Ginny? And you come along smelling like my laundry detergent and the shampoo you keep in my shower. I couldn’t help but wanna be close to you. And when I’m close to you, I wanna touch you, no matter who sees.”

He punctuated his point by walking his fingers up her arms and closing the gap that had opened between them. Glaring half-heartedly, pursed lips fighting a smile, Ginny let him pull her closer.

“When you get us caught, I’m making you handle all the press.”

“Deal,” he agreed immediately. “I’ll tell ‘em all how you wore me down, but you’re starting to grow on me. Oh! And I can’t forget about your shrine to me: rookie card, poster—”

“Oh my god, shut up,” she laughed, hiding her face in his shoulder.

For once, Mike listened. He pressed a kiss to her temple and Ginny wound her arms around his middle.

“You know you have to make today up to me, right?”

“I assumed,” he replied easily, giving her one last squeeze before stepping away. “You got any suggestions?”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” she said, peering up at him through her lashes. She bit her lip for good measure, waiting for him to rock back into her space before deftly sidestepping him. There was a quick glimpse of Mike’s shocked face before she was at the door and stepping into the hallway. As she left, she tossed over her shoulder, “I’ll send you ideas while you take your ice bath, old man.”

“You’re killin’ me, Gin,” he groaned, sticking his head out the door and watching her walk away.

Ginny just smiled to herself. Clearly Mike liked to leave her hanging, but they’d see how long that lasted with a taste of his own medicine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will, no matter how long this goes on, always love Mike nearly blowing his secret relationship with Ginny. 
> 
> Don't forget to send your baseballs if you can!! If you get the chance, please check out [Pitch Street Team's tumblr](http://www.pitchstreetteam.tumblr.com) for more info on the #keepherinthegame campaign!


	4. we are an ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Away Game

“C’mon, rookie,” came Mike’s voice through the flimsy curtain that was the only barrier between Ginny’s privacy and 24 men in various states of undress. She didn’t need to check the gap between the fabric, knew she’d pulled it closed, but did anyway at the interruption. Not that she thought Lawson would actually try to peek. It was just reflex. “We’re going out.”

“Out?”

Ginny stood from the little stool that had been afforded her in the Marlins guest clubhouse and twitched the curtains aside. There, standing with his back to her nook, was Mike Lawson, dressed in his ever-present leather jacket, though it had to be pushing 90 outside.

At the rustle of fabric, he turned, casting a cursory glance over her.

“Hey, I’ll have you know that Mr. Padre introduced me to this place himself, and now I take all the rookies there on their first road trip to Miami.”

“ _All_ the rookies?”

Mike frowned, chomping on his gum. “Well, it’s supposed to be if boy wonder ever gets out of the showers,” he griped.

Ginny grinned. He squinted back, but she was sure there was a smile hiding under that beard.

“If you’re looking for someone to get him out of there, you’re asking the wrong teammate.” Mike rolled his eyes, but Ginny continued, “You try flushing the toilets? That always worked on my brother.”

That earned a laugh, Mike’s eyes crinkling shut. “You must’ve been a nightmare to live with, Baker.”

“I was a perfect delight,” she countered, grabbing her backpack and stepping out of her curtained niche.

“Sure you were,” Mike allowed, bumping her shoulder companionably.

Ginny was about to protest when Livan appeared, swathed in a towel and steam. He caught her looking and sent her a wink, smirking. She rolled her eyes, but didn’t look away. What? Evelyn would kill her if she found out Ginny’d missed a prime ogling target.

At her side, Mike just grumbled and picked up the pace, an arm around her shoulders steering her forward when she tried to linger.

“Move it, Livan,” he tossed over his shoulder as they walked out the door. “We’re leaving in ten with or without you.”  

Livan appeared with a minute to spare, smirking at the glower on his captain’s face.

“We going or not, Lawson?” he asked, breezing straight on by.

Thankfully, it wouldn’t be just Mike and the rookies. Apparently, plenty of other Padres remembered their first visit to Miami fondly enough to tag along.  

Which was definitely a good thing. If it had just been her, Mike, and Livan, Ginny couldn’t begin to imagine what an awkward night it would be. She had very little interest in coming in between their weird, alpha male pissing contest. Especially since they both sulked every time she told them to grow up.

The buffer would be good.

Ginny nudged Blip as everyone piled into the cars waiting to whisk them off to Miami team bonding time. Ginny'd resigned herself to being stuck in the middle somewhere and was just glad she’d opted for shorts to deal with the Florida heat. Bad enough that she had to put up with the body heat of two bulky ballplayers, Ginny didn’t want to think about having to deal with the sweaty cling of her usual work out leggings.

“Do I need to be worried about what’s gonna happen?” she asked, wrinkling her nose as her thighs stuck to the leather seats.

The center fielder grinned, and opened his mouth to reply, but Mike cut in from her other side.

“No hints, Sanders! It’s gotta be a surprise.”

Was this some sort of delayed hazing ritual? Had Livan annoyed the rest of the team so much that now she was going to get caught in the crossfire in the name of rookie initiation? Possibilities started swirling through Ginny’s head. They built and built, blowing way out of proportion to the information she had. Not that Ginny’s brain seemed to care. Not when it had the opportunity to send her spiraling.

“You’re not filling me with confidence, here, Lawson,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light.

Mike must have heard the subtext, though, because he leaned slightly into her. His bulky, leather-covered arm shouldn’t have been comforting, not in the close heat of the car, but Ginny found the contact reassuring. She took a deep breath and tried to let go of the tangle of thoughts that’d invaded her brain.

By the time they pulled up to their destination, Ginny’d mostly gotten a handle on herself. She still felt a little jittery and the nondescript brick building without even a sign signaling its purpose was not helping matters.

Still, she could hear the whooping and laughter of her teammates as they piled out of the cars ahead and behind hers. Butch had his arm wrapped around Livan’s shoulders, herding the younger man inside with a friendly grin. No one was trading mischievous looks, or seemed like they were planning anything too ridiculous. Maybe this _was_ just a team tradition.

Ginny clambered out of the backseat and allowed Blip and Mike to herd her inside.

Once her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, Ginny blinked, sure she was seeing things.

It was just a bar. A bar with a setup for a live band and a dance floor, but still just a bar.

Sending her captain an incredulous look, “This is it?”

“It?” he protested. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, rookie! Every great Padre since Tony Gwynn himself has eaten here their first night in Miami.”

“Well, what was with all the secrecy for, old man?” she demanded, trying to ignore the way her face was heating even with the bar’s air conditioning on full blast.

Mike shrugged, heading to an empty table, forcing Ginny and Blip to trail along behind.

Blip answered when it became clear Mike wouldn’t. “It’s just tradition,” he explained, settling in next to Lawson. “Let the rookies work themselves into a knot as they worry we’re gonna do something like make ‘em skinny dip and steal their clothes.”

“I would’ve murdered you,” Ginny replied, automatic, sinking into her own seat. “Wait, is that what you thought was gonna happen?”

He clammed up, immediately busied himself flagging down a server. On the other side of the table, Mike grinned and leaned in conspiratorially. Ginny couldn’t help but lean in, too.

“He made me promise that whatever happened, no one could tell Evelyn.”

“Tell Evelyn what?” she laughed, nose wrinkling.

“That he’s terrified of the ocean.”

“Are you serious?”

“There are sharks in the ocean, Ginny! And lord knows what else! People are out of their goddamn minds if they think it’s acceptable to swim in the ocean.”

“You live like two miles from the beach.”

Blip shifted grumpily. “The wife wants what she wants.”

Salvamini, who’d been walking by with a tray of beers laughed and made a whiplash sound out of the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, Gio?” Blip shot back, a mock glare taking over his face. “Who was it who was just complaining about making three separate midnight grocery runs to keep up with his pregnant wife’s cravings?”

“He’s got you there, dude,” Dusty crowed, clapping Salvi on the back and nearly upsetting the tray of drinks.

After that, it seemed like everyone had something to say, and soon, Ginny relaxed into the friendly bickering of her teammates.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to just go with the flow, stop worrying so much.

Which was how Ginny found herself standing in the rolling waves of the ocean, her grown teammates shrieking and splashing each other in the surf.

During a lull in the evening, after the band played and everyone danced and Livan nearly cried at the familiar taste of ropa vieja, they’d all started talking. Shooting the shit. For some reason or other, Ginny’d let slip that she hadn’t had a chance to visit the beach back in San Diego, hadn’t ever been to the beach, actually.

A hush fell over the normally rowdy Padres. Mike and Blip shared a wordless look that somehow contained an entire conversation, simultaneously pushed their chairs back, and stood, throwing money down on the table.

Ginny just stared up at them, and then the rest of the guys who were following suit. “Uh, you guys got somewhere to be?”

“Catch up, Baker,” Mike drawled, a grin lighting up his face. “We’re taking your ass to the beach.”

And they did. 

Ginny’s sneakers and phone were abandoned somewhere near the parking lot and she was covered in goosebumps, but she didn’t want to move. She just tipped her head back and breathed in the salt spray as the ocean rolled against her legs.

Mike had just waded off dunk Livan, but only after he’d picked her up and spun her around, threatening to toss her in. She couldn’t protest, just clung to his neck and shrieked with laughter and dizziness. He finally set her back on her feet, though, and went off in search of another victim. 

Ginny could still feel the warmth of his hand where he’d cupped her elbow to make sure she was steady before he left. Somehow, she knew it would take more than a few deep breaths to find her bearings again. 

A voice cut through her giddy daze. 

“You’re all gonna get eaten by sharks!” Blip called from beyond the safety of the high tide mark. “And I’m gonna let everyone know that I told y’all!”

Ginny turned, laughing, and slogged her way up to where he sat in the cool sand. She was still chuckling when she plopped down beside him. It felt good, laughing at her teammates being silly and not because it was the only thing that would keep her sane.

Laying back against the sand and knowing it would be hell to get out of her hair, she squinted up at the sky. There weren’t any stars. At least not that she could see. The lights of Miami drowned them out.

“I’m glad I came out tonight,” she announced into the night.

Blip replied with a snort, “Like Lawson would’ve let you weasel your way out of this.”

She hummed her acknowledgement, but chewed on her lip in thought. Blip waited patiently, the hollering of their teammates mere background noise.

“Just, sometimes when I come out with you guys, I feel like I’m tagging along. Like I’m someone’s little sister that you all put up with because it’s easier than telling me to go away. And then sometimes, it’s like I’m eating up all the attention just because of who I am.” She paused, considering the light, floaty feeling buoying through her chest. “But I didn’t feel like that tonight, so I’m glad I came.”

With a heavy sigh, Blip stretched out beside her, a warm presence on the cooling beach. “I know this doesn’t really help anything, but you gotta stop worrying so much, Ginny,” he told her, knocking his knee against hers companionably. “You’re one of us, now. A Padre.”

She knew that. She did. After the way the guys stepped up for her in San Francisco, literally baring all, it had been hard to deny. Still, while she knew some of them did it for her, for the team, Ginny’d resigned herself to the fact that at least a few of them had done it just for the chance to be in the Body Issue.

She’d learned not to let that kind of shit bother her.

But tonight was different. There weren’t any snarky comments, not even when Ginny clearly exhibited her two left feet when Livan pulled her into a complex salsa on the dance floor. Sure, they teased and joked, but it didn’t have the same current of hostility that she’d gotten so used to in the minors.

“Yeah,” she replied, wriggling her toes in the sand and smiling at her friend. “I guess I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little season 1 missing scene. 
> 
> You can still send in your baseballs to Fox if you hurry! Or, get pumped for [Pitch Street Team's](http://www.pitchstreetteam.tumblr.com) April campaign! Thanks to everyone who participated!


	5. need to dress accordingly - pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of chapter 1, "need to dress accordingly"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter tags: language/cursing, girl talk, alcohol use

Someday, Ginny would know better than to try and keep secrets from Evelyn. Especially an Evelyn riding a tequila buzz and still somehow thirsty. Thirsty for vivid, electrifying details, at least. 

“What’d he say?” she squealed again, leaning into Ginny’s space, eyes wide and eager. 

Ginny laughed, riding a tequila buzz of her own. “How many times do I need to tell you?” she hedged, happy enough to share this with Evelyn, but still feeling a little shy. 

“Fine, fine,” Ev agreed, turning back to her drink. The last of the night. She even managed to rein in her enthusiasm. For about a minute. “Just tell me _how_  he said it. Did it make you shiver? All rough and rumbly? How close did he get? Could you feel the beard on your cheek?”

“Oh my God.”

“Ginny,” Ev whined. “C’mon, this is a girl’s night! That includes dirty details. And since you have made it very clear you don’t wanna hear about what Blip and I get up to—”

Ginny gagged, squeezing her eyes shut like it would keep her from picturing the scant details that Ev has managed to impart in the past.

Evelyn swatted at her with the back of her hand. “There are people that would _pay_ to see me and Blip make magic,” she pouted. 

“Sure, Ev, sure.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes, but when she focused on Ginny again, all that lightness and laughter settled into frank curiosity. 

“So, what are you going to do?”

Ginny’s eyes traced over to the VIP section. While she and Evelyn had been gossiping, it seemed the guys had already left; the gauzy curtains partitioning the area off were open, revealing a room filled with empty beer bottles, but no Padres. 

The twist in her gut at the absence made up Ginny’s mind for her. 

Knocking back the last of her drink—her mind was made up, but liquid courage never hurt—Ginny said, “I think I’ve got a conversation to finish.”

 

* * *

Ginny did not stumble her way up the stairs to Mike’s front door. 

Yes, she was a little giggly, Evelyn having convinced her to take one last shot for the road. And yes, she had to hold more tightly to the railing than she might have otherwise, but her feet remained solidly under her the whole way.

Maybe if she hadn’t been concentrating quite so hard on navigating the concrete stairs, she would have noticed. 

Noticed that Mike was definitely not at home. 

Not a single one of the many windows leaked any light into the evening. They all stood, dark and blank. 

Which Ginny only noticed after ringing the bell three times, waiting impatiently to be let in. 

She stepped back to glare up at the empty house, like it had done her wrong. 

Where the fuck was he?

Right on cue, Ginny’s phone began to vibrate in the pocket of her jacket. 

"Where are you?" she answered without preamble, leaning her forehead against the door.

"Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“Well, I’m standing outside your house.”

There was a long silence before Mike breathed, “Shit.” Ginny giggled, but Mike just cursed again. “Fuck. Are you serious?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Christ. I’m at the Omni.”

Her giggles turned into a full blown guffaw, long and loud. Even over her mirth, Ginny could practically hear Mike’s annoyed grimace.

“Well, I’m not leaving,” she informed him. “Even if I could.”

“And why can’t you?” he asked, amusement brightening his tone. Faintly, she heard the _ding_ of the elevator.

“My ride already left,” she sighed, spinning so she could lean back against the door. Putting so much pressure on her forehead was giving her a headache.

Mike cursed. “You’re gonna freeze, Gin.”

She frowned at that. It was pretty chilly, now that she thought about it. A shiver shuddered through her body right on cue. She hunched into the motorcycle jacket she’d stolen from Ev at some point. It was cute, but not very warm.

“Listen,” he instructed, “there’s a spare key hidden under one of the potted plants. Just let yourself in so I don’t have to worry about finding a human popsicle when I get back.”

Even still slightly tipsy, Ginny bit back the retort about letting him warm her up. Instead, she managed to shift one of the oversized planters without spilling too much dirt and revealed a key, just as he’d promised.

“Got it,” she huffed triumphantly.

The echo-y beep of his car doors unlocking drifted down the line. “Good,” Mike replied, his smile evident in his voice. It made Ginny warm all over. Not that she wasn’t still going to go inside. Miss out on a chance to snoop around Casa Lawson? Yeah, right. “I’ll be home soon.”

A goofy, totally undeserved smile spread across her face. She knew that he meant he’d be back to his home, but the way he’d said it— It sounded like he was coming home to her.

“I’ll be waiting,” she promised, as if it even needed to be said.

A soft sigh came down the line and Ginny wanted to remember that sound forever. The sound of expectation and relief and something so much more all in one breath. 

“Soon,” he promised.

 

* * *

Much as she would like to say that she went exploring in Mike’s fishbowl house, unearthed all his secrets, the tequila in Ginny’s bloodstream had other ideas. Once she toed off her too-tall heels, and dropped her jacket on the back of a chair, the couch called her name. 

She dropped onto the deceptively comfortable cushions, the silky material of her dress pooling around her thighs. 

Ginny told herself she’d just close her eyes for a moment, collect her composure for what was about to happen. 

The next thing she knew, a weight settled on the cushion near her stomach, a warm touch skating across her cheek. She stirred, leaning into the touch like a cat into the sun. A soft hum escaped her mouth and there was a responding chuckle.

“Wake up, Gin,” came a quiet, familiar voice, far gentler than she was used to hearing. 

She hummed again and rolled from her side to her back, the wrap skirt on her dress falling nearly open. When she finally let her eyes flutter open to take in Mike perched on the edge of the cushion, Ginny smiled sleepily up at him. 

“I’m awake,” she murmured, stretching languidly and enjoying the burn of his attention along her body.

“You dream of anything?”

Ginny blinked, the words filtering in with the memory of the wistfulness on his face when she’d said, “In your dreams, old man.”

She sat up, but Mike didn’t move an inch, so when she was upright, their chests nearly touched, breath mingling. It wasn’t so far to look up to make eye contact, but Ginny felt every inch of the space between them. 

“No,” she breathed, knowing she didn’t imagine the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. He looked away, but when Ginny laid her hand over his, threading their fingers together. “I didn’t have to, though. I knew you’d be here soon.”

The smile that spread out under that so-familiar beard was enough to light Ginny up from the inside out. She beamed back at him, tightening her grip on him. He tugged their connected hands up to his lips, brushing a soft kiss to the back of hers. Impulsively, Ginny leaned forward to do the same to his. She kept her eyes open and so did he, so they stared into one another’s eyes until they finally pulled back. 

Ginny giggled a little, suddenly overtaken by embarrassment. Mike’s thumb rubbed soothingly across the back of her hand until Ginny would meet his gaze again. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured. “But can I ask why?”

“Why’d you go to the Omni?” she replied, quirking her eyebrow.

“Fair enough,” he chuckled, leaning away and leaving Ginny cold. At least he hadn’t let go of her hand, yet. “I know we weren’t going to talk about... this while we’re teammates, but this didn’t feel like something we could just let lie, y’know?”

“I know.”

He nodded, slow and thoughtful. His free hand was fiddling with the hem of her skirt, close enough that she could feel the heat of his fingertips even if they never brushed against her skin.

“I do dream about you.” Mike’s admission was hushed even in the echo chamber that was his house. So many windows to reflect back every sight and sound. This, though, simply hung in the air, waiting breathlessly for Ginny’s response.

“And what do you dream about?” She wasn’t worried he’d tell her about nights he woke up hard and aching for her, though there was definitely a part of her that hoped it was true. Especially considering how many nights she’d woken with his name a gasp on her lips.

“This. About you being here with me at the end of the day. Of getting to wake you up and the look on your face when I’m the first thing you see.” Ginny couldn’t look away, not even when a wicked grin stole over his perfect mouth. “I dream about how much you love the beard.”

He didn’t look at all put out by her bright peal of laughter. She rocked forward and her forehead ran up against the warm bulk of his shoulder. “So I was right?” she demanded, delighted beyond comprehension. 

“Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled, though Ginny could hear the fondness tugging up on the words. 

His hand settled on her back, toying with the thin sash holding her dress closed. Ginny curled closer to him, letting her forehead fall into the crook of his neck. 

“Can I stay?”

“Yes,” he agreed, immediate. Then, “Are you sure?”

Ginny smiled and turned her face into him, a soft nuzzle. Mike loosed his breath in a slightly ragged exhale, his cheek resting against her temple.

“As sure as I am about anything,” she said. “That good enough for you?”

Sighing like it was some enormous burden, he replied, “I’ll take it.”

Ginny laughed and finally untangled herself from him. Swinging her legs off the couch, she reveled in the slither of cool silk against her skin and the heated trail of Mike’s gaze. Lip tugged between her teeth, she pushed to her feet and looked down at him. It took a long beat for Mike’s gaze to meet hers, trailing up from her thighs, over the dip of her waist, and through the shadow between her breasts. 

“Come on, Lawson,” she said when his eyes were finally focused on her face, holding a hand out to him. “Take me to bed.”

His eyebrows rose at that, a smirk lighting him up. “To bed, huh?”

Ginny rolled her eyes, annoyed that she’d walked straight into that one. Waspish, she snarked, “Unless you’re into girls falling asleep in the middle, then I’m gonna say no, superstar.”

Her point was punctuated by a jaw-cracking yawn, which finally got Mike on his feet. His hand in hers, he tugged a little and Ginny stumbled toward him. 

“Yeah, you’re definitely going to want to be awake for that,” he promised, right in Ginny’s ear. 

She laughed to cover her shiver, though the goosebumps that broke over her arms and chest probably gave her away. Still, her hands smoothed up and over his shoulders, admiring the firm play of muscle beneath his shirt. 

“You should probably let me get some sleep, then,” she teased, tilting her face up to him. 

Mike hummed in thought, looking down at her. “I will. But first.”

His big, powerful hand came up and somehow cradled her chin so sweetly, so tenderly. He lifted it into the air until he could lean down and slant his mouth perfectly over hers. 

They sighed together, Ginny’s arms wrapping around Mike’s neck and the calluses on Mike’s free hand catching against the smooth fabric of Ginny’s dress. They pressed close to one another, like touching as much of the other as possible would keep the world and reality out of this thing between them. They pulled away, lips soft and reluctant to part. 

Still, they smiled. It was just the next of many to come, but it felt significant all the same. When they took each other’s hands again, climbed the stairs, undressed each other, and fell into bed and then into sleep, those smiles still hadn’t faded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! 
> 
> I'm not sure how much anyone has been keeping up with the #PickUpPitch campaign that Pitch Street Team has organized, but I have something pretty easy for you to do, if you want a chance at seeing more Pitch on TV. 
> 
> This Friday at 2PM Central (not your timezone? find out your local time [here](https://www.timeanddate.com/worldclock/fixedtime.html?msg=%23PickUpPitch+Twitter+Trend&iso=20170609T12&p1=24&ah=6)), we're going to try and get #PickUpPitch trending on twitter. So, if you have a twitter account and have a chance, please please please send out a tweet containing, at the very least, #PickUpPitch on Friday. If you also want to include reasons you love this show, I definitely won't complain :) Set a reminder for yourself right now! I'm not above begging.
> 
> Anyway, I'll love you forever if we manage to get this thing trending.


	6. no (dress) codes in bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lerayon asked for a follow up to need to dress accordingly and how couldn't I comply?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter tags: follow up to chapters 1 and 5, early established relationship, fluff and no plot

When Ginny first woke up the morning after falling into bed with Mike, things came into focus slow and sweet and soft. She was sleepily surprised by the complete lack of panic flooding her veins. Even better, it didn’t set in once she noted its absence. 

No, that warm, contented feeling wasn’t going anywhere.

There was no reason to panic anyway. Ginny only panicked when she felt control slipping through her fingers. When she was too rattled, too confused to hang onto all the details. There was none of that now. 

She knew exactly where she was, and exactly whose clothes she’d slept in. She knew whose breath puffed warmly against her neck, and whose thigh had insinuated itself between hers. She knew what words had been murmured into her skin last night, and what she’d said in return. Ginny knew these things and not a single one of them made her nervous or rattled or scared. Not a single one made her want to be anywhere else. She  _couldn’t_  bring herself to want to be anywhere else. 

No matter what she’d once thought.

(And Ginny had definitely thought about it.

What else could she do? There’d been nothing but time since that night at the end of August. Nothing but time to consider what it might be like to jump the gun and start something with Mike before he retired. Nothing but time to consider and mull and rationalize while she and Mike continued not to talk about it. 

Every time, though, Ginny couldn’t ignore that for whatever good things being with Mike gave her—happiness, support,  _love_ —being with him could just as easily ruin her.)

That was the last thing on her mind, now, though. 

She was too content to worry.

Sure, her mouth was dry and her head didn’t feel  _great_ , not after all the tequila she’d thrown back last night, but those were just minor inconveniences. A little water and an aspirin and she’d forget all about them. 

What she wouldn’t forget? What it felt like to wake up with Mike’s slumbering form practically sprawled on top of her. His warm bulk was a perfect reminder of what she’d decided last night, just before her eyes closed the last time: that this would be only the first in a long line of mornings spent waking up in Mike Lawson’s arms, in Mike Lawson’s bed, in Mike Lawson’s life. 

How could any of that ruin her?

It couldn’t. The rest of the world—and even her stupid code—could go fuck itself if it thought for one second Ginny Baker was going to give up Mike Lawson now that she had him. 

Unconsciously, her arms tightened around his back, his bare skin sleep warm and soft beyond belief. He stirred, his face nuzzling into the space between her shoulder and neck, but settled again easily enough. Reluctantly, Ginny loosened her grip. Best not to risk waking him, not while she was so happy to be exactly where she was. 

She couldn’t help but let her hands wander, though. 

One curled around the back of his head, carding through the short strands of his hair. There’d been a lot of time spent this season wondering exactly what Mike’s hair, among other things, might feel like. If it’d be stiff or crunchy or sticky from the products he swore he didn’t use. It wasn’t, though. Just thick and silky running between her fingers. 

The other soothed up and down his side, cataloguing the play of sleeping muscle and skin. Every breath, his ribs expanded, carrying her hand with them. Easily enough, Ginny slowed hers to match, drifting hazily somewhere that wasn’t quite awake but wasn’t dreaming, either. 

For a while, God knew how long, Ginny lost herself in the rhythmic strokes of her hands, familiarizing herself with the feel of Mike beneath her fingers and thrilling over the fact that soon he would be familiar. This wouldn’t always be quite so novel. She didn’t quite believe it.

“I can hear you thinking,” came a gruff rumble, right against her neck. 

It didn’t startle her, not really. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d been aware he’d woken up, had pressed a kiss to her neck and collar bone before settling back against her. And anyway, he wasn’t quite wrong. 

She’d been thinking a lot of things, but mostly about how stupidly happy she was.

Ginny hummed, eyes drifting shut. The differences between laying beneath a sleeping Mike Lawson and an awake one were subtle but definite. A pleasant throb echoed through her, but she was too at ease to do anything about it.

Mike shifted, his beard prickling through the tissue-thin shirt he’d given her to sleep in. 

(In spite of any past assurances otherwise, Ginny really did want to find out what it would feel like without any barriers. 

She was pretty sure she could even get him to give her a taste without outright asking for it.)

“Is that a rule here?” she finally murmured back, fingers trailing up and down Mike’s spine. He practically purred like a big, satisfied cat. God, he was perfect. “No thinking?”

“It is when we could both be sleeping.” He curled around her, a warm, heavy blanket extending such a tempting invitation.

“Well then,” Ginny laughed, sinking into his heat and back to sleep. 

 

* * *

The next time Ginny awoke, sunlight streamed into the room, illuminating everything in a warm, golden glow. The sun fell in honey-warm drifts across the bed as she stretched and sighed, her face mostly buried in one of Mike’s fancy down pillows. 

She screwed her eyes shut against the light. Maybe she should’ve taken that Advil when she first woke up. But the low throb in her head was easy to ignore as sleep stiff muscles pulled taut and loosened. It was only when her back arched off the bed that she realized she was no longer weighted down by her very own major league catcher. 

She knew he was still in bed, though. Could hear his even breaths and feel the warmth he was generating under the covers, but he wasn’t touching her. And he really should be. 

Ginny extended a leg out to the side until she could hook a foot around his ankle. With that as leverage, she rolled into his side, bringing her pillow with her. 

Mike let out an amused huff. “So, you’re awake now?”

Ginny cracked an eye open and peered over the top of the world’s comfiest pillow. When she did, she wished she’d done it sooner.  

Propped up against the headboard, tablet in his lap and steaming cup of coffee in hand, Mike was limned in gold. The sunshine caressed his broad chest and tousled hair as lovingly as Ginny wanted to. He grinned down at her, light and carefree in a way she could get used to seeing. 

“You could’ve woken me up.” She propped herself up on one elbow and reached for the mug. If he already had coffee breath, she might as well, too. He handed it over without protest. 

He did, however, wait until she’d taken a sip to say, “Oh, I tried. You nearly clocked me.”

Ginny sputtered, narrowly avoiding drenching both herself and Mike with the hot liquid. His laughter should’ve annoyed her more, but Ginny found herself giggling too. Nearly too hard to accuse, “You liar!”

“You did!” he laughed, taking the coffee back from her. It went to the bedside table to prevent any future spills. His iPad joined it a moment later, leaving his hands entirely free. Still, he didn’t do anything with those newly empty hands, just looked down at her, grinning fondly. “Didn’t realize I’d gotten Rocky into bed with me.”

“No way, old man,” Ginny returned, dropping back to the mattress to nestle in the warm blankets. And appreciate this view of Mike from a new angle. It was a good one. “I don’t buy it. Where’s your proof?”

Mike rolled his eyes. “What kinda proof am I supposed to give you? I said you  _nearly_  got me, not that you did.”

She shrugged, grinning impishly. 

Sighing heavily, Mike eyed her, tracing over the way his shirt had ridden up her stomach and the neckline had slouched to expose one shoulder. His slow perusal made Ginny shiver in spite of the warm, sun-filled air. She bit her lip. When his gaze finally returned to hers, the sheer  _want_  painted across his face nearly made her lose her breath. 

“How’s this for proof?” he finally said, wetting his lips and making Ginny wish she could do it for him. If he just came down here for a second, she would. “What could possibly make me keep my distance when I’ve already got you in my bed, if it weren’t the threat of your mean right hook?”

“Poor baby,” she cooed breathlessly, blinking up at him and trying to rein in her hormones. To at least pretend she had self-control. “Couldn’t cuddle with the pretty girl.”

“Poor me is right,” he agreed, sounding utterly put upon in spite of the smirk threatening to take over his expression.

“Well, there’s nothing stopping you now. Promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“Let’s not go that far,” he grinned, closing the distance in a blink. 

Ginny let out a peal of laughter as Mike swarmed her, tangling their legs together and otherwise making sure they were touching in as many places as possible. 

Finally.

She was more than willing to forgive him, though. His lips moving insistently, hungrily, against hers were pretty persuasive. 

They’d traded gentle, sleepy kisses last night. Both as they got ready for bed and once they’d crawled beneath the covers. It was too new, too novel not to revel in the fact that they  _could_  just lean in and kiss the other not to take advantage. 

But those kisses had been soft sighs, whispers in the dark, the barest caress as they waited for sleep to overcome them. 

This. This was something else. 

Maybe it was the weight of Mike pinning Ginny to the bed, or the way her legs wrapped around his thick frame, grounding him against her, but all she knew was this was a different beast entirely. 

And she wanted more.

Ginny gasped into Mike’s open mouth, his tongue already tangling with hers, bitter coffee only barely covering up stale morning breath. 

She didn’t care. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, his shoulders, his back, all the way down to his perfectly squeezable ass, and delighted in the growl he loosed when her hands slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers. 

Which was when Mike chose to speak again.

“We don’t have to.”

“Don’t have to what?” she replied, utterly distracted by the way his ass tensed beneath her palms and the bulge at the front of his boxers ground against her core.

It took Mike a moment to respond, and when he did, it sounded as if the words took a mighty effort. “ _Do_  anything,” he said, his hips jerking away from the inviting cradle of Ginny’s hips. As far as he could, anyway, with her legs locked around him.

“Why wouldn’t we?” she gasped as his mouth worked its way up her throat. 

“Because I’m not in any hurry,” Mike murmured back, right against the shell of her ear.

That earned a laugh and a pointed roll of her hips. Immediately, his own hips responded with a sharp thrust, drawing out matching moans. When she’d recovered enough for words, Ginny grinned, “That doesn’t seem true at all.”

Ginny could practically feel him rolling his eyes at her, but she didn’t care. Her hands were mapping out the broad expanse of Mike’s back, dancing across the constellations of freckles and reveling in the sheer power of him. So much muscle, so much strength. And it was all hers. 

“I mean it, Gin,” he said, pulling his face out from the crook of her neck. She whined at the loss of his heat, arching up to close the gap, but stopping at the steady, serious expression on his face. “I want this. Us. You. And if that means taking things slow—”

“I don’t wanna go slow, Mike.” His eyes trailed across her face as he waited for her to continue. “I want this, too. And you. I want you, but I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to spend time being scared that this won’t work. I want to make it work. Don’t you?”

The smile that spread across Mike’s face was one of the most beautiful things Ginny had ever seen. Brighter than the sun flooding his bedroom with it’s warm rays and sweeter than the sugar he refused to put in his coffee, it was perfect. As perfect as he was. 

Still smiling, he ducked back down to kiss her, messy and enthusiastic. Only once she was good and breathless, did he pull away. Looking her straight in the eyes, Mike answered a heartfelt, “Yeah. That’s exactly what I want.”

“Oh,” she breathed, giggling a little helplessly. “Well, good.”

Something shifted in his earnest, sweet expression, turning sly and maybe even dangerous. 

As if Mike could ever be a danger to her.

“I’ll show you good, Baker,” he promised, low and greedy. 

“Or maybe I’ll give you some tips.”

Mike’s growl mingled with Ginny’s laughter, but both were so ridiculously over the moon, it hardly even mattered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Mike would be endlessly astounded by Ginny in those heady early days, but I think Ginny would be just as knocked flat by Mike. There's too much history—even if he's not the guy in her poster, not really—for her to be anything but fascinated by him and the reality that his body is basically hers to explore and enjoy. 
> 
> Anyway, what'd you think? I know there's no smut payoff, but I think the sleepy intimacy of waking up with someone is at least as interesting as smut? And when I first wrote this, I was trying to direct any smutty writing impulses towards the final chapter of guys like you, which I hope paid off. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!


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